The Jonquil Maid

A little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree,                  Singing alone,                  In a low love-tone,      And the wind swept by with a wistful moan;              For he longed to stay              With the Maid all day;                  But he knew                  As he blew                  It was true                  That the dew              Would never, never dry              If the wind should die;      So he hurried away where the rosebuds grew.      And while to the Land of the Rose went he,                  Singing alone,                  In a low love-tone,      A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.      The Little Maid's eyes had a rainbow hue,              And her sunset hair              Was woven with care      In a knot that was fit for a Psyche to wear;              And she pressed her lips              With her finger tips,                  Threw a sly                  Kiss to try                  If he'd sigh                  In reply,              And said with a laugh,              "Oh, it's not one half      As sweet as I give when there's Some One nigh."      And while to the Rosebud Land went he,                  Singing alone,                  In a low love-tone,      A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.      The wind swept back to the Jonquil Tree              At the close of day,              In the twilight gray;      But the sweet Little Maid had stolen away;              And whither she's flown              Will never be known                  Till the Rose                  As it blows                  Shall disclose                  All it knows              Of the Maid so fair              With the sunset hair.      And the sad wind comes and sighs and goes,      And dreams of the day when he blew so free,              When singing alone,              In a low love-tone,      A Little Maid sat in a Jonquil Tree.